“A man of honor?” He shook his head. “No, no, no. You got me all wrong. A man like me’s got no use for honor. I wake up every day thinking, ‘How am I putting food in my belly today?’ If I’m lucky, I get it done. Dinner’s what I live for. And I know you understand, ’cause it’s the same damn thing for you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right. Every moment of my life had always been about simple survival. Since I’d left West End, it had only looked a little different.

I blinked at Hackett, seeing him with fresh eyes. “We’re just a pair of thieves, Hackett. You, taking Miss Coates’s jewels. Me, taking her life. We’re scavengers, Hackett. That’s all we are.” Suddenly, I felt so weary. Would my future be the same, even as Miss Coates? I sighed, swatting at the sweat tickling my neck. “Don’t you ever wish there was more?”

More. It was what Mama wanted for me. More than she’d had. A good life. A good husband. But I wanted more than her more. I wanted to do things that mattered. I wanted to sink my teeth deep into the world. I’d stood by as Asa had been beaten. I never again wanted to feel that way again—like less.

“Maybe a long time ago I wished for more,” Hackett replied. He clasped his hands together. “Too late now.”

I studied the lines carved into his cheeks and between his eyebrows. I wondered how hard his life had been, to stamp so much anger and pain on his face. “I don’t think it’s too late.” I didn’t think it was, for either of us.

His eyes slid over to me. “You forgetting you hate me or something?”

“No. I remember.”

“Well.” He sniffed. “What’s a little brat like you know about anything, anyway?” he said, but his tone was light. Almost teasing. He straightened off the rail. “Good day to you, madam.” He bowed and took three steps before turning back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I won’t be requiring those jewels after all.”

“You mean—?”

“Yes, Salty, that’s what I mean. Keep ’em, and don’t make a big fuss about it. You need ’em more than I do. Besides, I already got my dinner worked out tonight, and tomorrow’s tomorrow.”

He winked and swaggered off, swinging his bosun’s club like the sun shone just for him.

I watched him go in silent astonishment. The old buzzard had a heart after all.